


Trial and Error

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Talon!Damian AU [6]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's impatience will be the death of him. But if it gets them Damian back, then it'll be worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after _Glitch_. There are scene breaks because I was too lazy to figure out a way to connect the different sections.

“Don’t.” Tim hissed, trying to push off the bed, ignoring the way his organs screamed. “Bruce, don’t you _dare_.”

Bruce just glanced at Alfred, nodded and turned away.

“Please.” Tim already begged. “You can’t-”

“You are not to patrol until further notice.” Bruce said solemnly. “Red Robin is grounded.”

“Bruce, I _need_ to be out there!” Tim lurched forward. Alfred was instantly at his side, holding him back, trying to tuck him into his side. “If only, for nothing else, to look for Damian!”

Bruce’s shoulders visibly tightened.

And Tim shouldn’t of. But he was tired. Angry. Upset. Their kid was still out there. Their kid was so _clearly_ being hurt, in every way possible, and Bruce was still acting like the best course of action was to be passive. To sit back and wait for the opportunity to save that little boy to come to him.

“Because you’re clearly not going to do it.” Tim snapped. “And right now, I can’t tell if it’s because you’re not smart enough to find him, or if you just _don’t care_.”

Bruce didn’t look back. Just balled his hands into fists, took a deep breath and ordered, “Help him to his room you’re done bandaging him up, Alfred.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred agreed sadly, watching as Tim slammed back into the pillows and crossed his arms.

~~

“If _he_ sent you,” Tim muttered four hours later, not looking up from the papers spread across his bed. “Then you can just turn right back around.”

“Dick made me come.” Jason muttered, hopping down from the windowsill with a shrug.

“What, I can’t be concerned when my little brother seems like he’s going to get himself killed?” Dick retorted harshly, following right behind Jason. “I already lost Damian. I’ll be _damned_ if you think I’m going to let you go too.”

“I think I figured out a way we can get him back.” Tim finally glanced up. Blues eyes bright and determined. “Dick, I think we can rescue him.”

Dick glared down at him for a moment, before sighing and dropping to the edge of the mattress. “Tim…”

“The problem with all these other times was we were by ourselves. He can handle us all one on one.” Tim instantly launched into his explanation, pointing at some photos. Dick turned his head to look at them, realizing quickly they were from a few of their encounters with the newest Talon, from security cameras in the area. “But if we all try to hit him at once-”

“We could overload him.” Jason concluded, coming around to the other side of the bed, picking up a map of Gotham’s East Quarter. “He’ll go after one, the others could hit him from behind.”

“Or he’ll just run.” Dick added bitterly.

“Not if we piss him off.” Tim said. “Jason, didn’t you say when the Court captured you, Damian freaked out when you used his name?”

“Yup.” Jason frowned, rubbing at his side, where Damian had drawn blood by digging his claws into his side.

“He did the same for me. That’s _why_ he attacked me.” Tim nodded. He shuffled some of the maps. “It seems like being called by his name is some sort of trigger. He feels the need to eradicate whoever uses it.”

“Then it’s a hazard.” Dick sighed, picking up one of the photos, the one with the clearest shot of Damian. “Because if we don’t move fast enough, he’ll kill us.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Tim replied seriously. “But the more of us there are, the less likely he can actually go through with it. Probably even the more likely we’ll be able to nab him.”

Dick pursed his lips, and Tim could see he was conflicted. Because no one wanted Damian back more than Dick. But Tim also knew Dick would never willingly put anyone else in his family in danger to reach that goal.

Jason apparently could see the same discord. “We don’t know if we don’t try, Dick.”

“But Tim, you’re-”

“I’ve been injured worse.” Tim cut off the thought immediately with a wave. “Just load me up with some painkillers, and I’ll be fine. So don’t you even think about leaving me behind.” A quick halt, glancing down at the photo Dick was still holding. “Besides, this is nothing compared to what Damian’s going through.”

“Tim-”

“I could have saved him last night, Dick.” Tim explained sternly. “I could have, but I hesitated. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Dick stared down at the picture for a few more moments, then suddenly sighed, looking up at Tim and Jason with a resigned expression. “How much tranquilizer are we taking?”

~~

They tried for weeks.

It, surprisingly, almost worked. Most of the time. They’d catch sight of him, chase him for a while. Then Jason would start calling to him:

“Come on, Damian! You can do better than that!”

And Tim had been right. Without fail, no matter how far away the child was, he’d always turn around then, launch himself at Jason. Jason would run, normally into an alleyway, or small space. Dick and Tim would block the exits, slowly close in while Damian was distracted in his rage at Jason.

Sometimes, if they got close enough, Damian would just relax. Stare up at them with the saddest eyes they’d ever seen. Clearly defeated. Other times he would lash out. Scream and kick and punch and, one time, even _bite_.

“Why do you care?!” He shouted once, in a tone that sounded more like pleading. “Why do you all keep following me? You’re my _enemy_ , you should be trying to _hide_ from me!”

None of them ever got to answer, though. And that was the thing that made each attempt a failure. That moment, when they felt victory in their grasps, when they felt like they might actually be allowed to regain the missing piece of their family once more…

Owlman would appear.

And the villain never said anything. He never had to. He would throw a weapon, dodge Jason’s bullets, distract them all for a second. For five at most. Give Damian ample time to slip away.

They never knew how. He could be surrounded by them on all sides, no ladder or grappling hook in sight. No secret door below him. They would just defend themselves for that brief moment, blink _maybe_ , look up and see Damian at Owlman’s side.

And it was always worse, when they got Damian’s mask off. When he stood next to Lincoln March. His eyes were always wide and glassy. His skin paler than it already was. His body tense, as if ready to be struck.

He just looked so goddamn _scared_.

Sometimes, then, March would remove his own mask, stare down at them with a victorious sneer as he wrapped a hand around Damian’s neck, spun him forcefully away. And more than once Dick would scramble after them, violence in his hands, and murder etched on his face. But by the time he’d reach the rooftop, both villain and apprentice would be gone. And there would be no hope of picking up the trail.

Without fail, the trio always went home empty-handed.

~~

One day, Tim snapped.

He didn’t care that his injuries weren’t healed. Didn’t care that Bruce was so furious with him and the others for what they were doing that he was now avoiding them. Didn’t care that Kon and Cassie and Bart and Alfred were worried out of their minds for him.

He was getting Damian back if it was the last thing he did.

If anyone else were home at the time, they would have stopped him. Tied him to a chair, knocked him out, _anything_. Because this was stupid. This was _suicide_.

Tim knew where the Court’s base was. Bruce didn’t know that. Dick didn’t know that either. But he did. He’d known since the night the Court of Owls tried to ransack Gotham City. Since Bruce went missing for over a week, trapped in their grasp. Since the night Damian didn’t come home.

When he arrived at the compound – an underground number, of course. No Gotham villain would _dare_ think of having a normal thing like an office building – the doors opened before he knocked, like they’d been expecting him. He tried to ignore his limp as he strolled down the hall, following the path made up of oil lanterns. The hallway was carpeted, richly painted red walls plastered with classical looking artwork. The smell of finely cooked food.  Everything seemed old, but almost pleasantly so.

Another set of double doors opened and he stepped into a room with a polished wooden floor, a raised gallery surrounding it. Like a circus or stage show. People in blank white masks filled every seat, all watching him with blank, beady eyes.

He got straight to the point. “I want to make a deal.”

“With the Court?” A single, loud voice called.

“Partially.” Tim admitted. “More with Owlman.”

“And what kind of deal would one of Batman’s allies wish to make?”

“A deal for his Talon.”

A whisper let loose amongst the crowd, but Tim held his ground. And he never heard a summons, don’t know who would do that for the Court, but suddenly another door opened, exactly opposite of Tim, Owlman himself strolling through.

But he wasn’t alone. No, he was dragging someone behind him, by the neck of their shirt. Someone who was small, whose feet were slipping on the floor, not gaining any traction. Without any hesitation, Lincoln hauled Damian around him, tossing him to the ground a few feet in front of him. Damian landed in a heap, instantly coughing roughly.

“You mean _this_ Talon?”

“Yes.” Tim answered tightly, fighting every urge in his body to leap forward and gouge Lincoln March’s eyes out. “A simple swap. Me for him.”

Damian’s gold-and-blue eyes shot up. Wide and surprised.

“Oh?” And Owlman had the nerve to sound amused. “And why would I want to do that? My Talon is a very formidable partner.”

“Because I’m bigger. Stronger. Less prone to act out.” Tim explained monotonously. “And it probably doesn’t look good for the Court, making a _child_ do your dirty work.”

That quickly wiped the grin off Lincoln’s face. “Funny.” He decided on. “When I pictured someone actually showing up here to rescue this little twerp, you were _not_ the one I’d have put my money on.”

“I’m full of surprises.” Tim muttered bitterly, watching as Damian tried to catch his breathing, tried to sit up. He was just now seeing the sweat pouring down the kid’s face. The tremble of his muscles. “So, we got a deal?”

“No other catch?” Owlman asked slowly.

“No other catch.” Tim promised. “Simple as that.”

“Hmmm.” Owlman leisurely stepped forward, rounded Damian and stood between the two brothers, glancing appraisingly between them. The room was silent, save for Damian’s raspy breathing, and Tim wanted nothing more than to collect the boy in his arms. “And what says the Court?”

“The deal is acceptable.” That same lone voice said.

And Tim allowed himself to feel that spark of hope. He could do this. He was going to succeed. Damian was going to be _safe_. Like he’d just said, simple as that.

But then Lincoln turned to Damian. “And what do you think, Talon?” Damian chanced a peek at his mentor – his _captor_. “Do you think it’s a fair deal?”

Uh oh.

Damian blinked, lips parting in confusion, like he didn’t understand the words, or had never been asked a question before. Owlman smiled down at him, and to anyone else, it would look almost warm. Encouraging. To Tim it looked harsh. Cruel.

Damian suddenly licked his lips, pushed himself up on shaky arms and legs. Tim could now see the blossom of blood spreading across the side of his dark uniform, couldn’t help but notice the matching red stain on Owlman’s clawed glove. Damian stood slumped, shoulders crooked, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Trying to look tough. Failing _miserably_.

“No.”

“No?” Owlman repeated.

Tim felt himself deflate as he stepped forward. “Damian-”

“No, it is not a fair deal!” Damian shouted rapidly, jumping back. “He is a _liar_ and a _manipulator_. Of Batman’s allies, he is the _weakest_. And he will be no help to the Court!”

And it didn’t take a genius to know what he was doing. He may not remember them, may be conditioned to not _like_ them, but he would still fight to protect them.

Here, Tim thought he was the only one with the tendency to self-sacrifice.

“And you’d know better than anyone, don’t you, nephew?” Owlman gleefully turned towards Tim. “Well. You heard him. No deal.”

And Tim had already been rash. Clearly already made too many mistakes. But his frustration hit a head. He pulled his staff out, hit the button to extend it, and swung it to the side, right for Lincoln’s face.

Lincoln caught it easily, twisting and throwing Tim to the ground. His vision swam, all the blank white faces melting together. They all disappeared, though, as Owlman leaned over him, a foot pressed on his chest.

“You have two minutes to leave, Mister Drake.” Lincoln hummed. “Or I’m going to let my Talon prove to everyone exactly how _weak_ you are.”

“You said we are above mocking, Owlman.” Damian snapped, though it sounded more terrified than haughty.

Owlman smirked, pressing his foot harder before releasing. Tim rolled to a crouch, watching as Lincoln sauntered back over to Damian. Damian continued to stare furiously between them. “Come, Talon. We haven’t finished our _training_ for the day.”

The anger dropped at the last second. Damian’s gaze lowered, his body drooping. It was as if he was apologizing with body language. But there was still an uncertainty to his motions, like he didn’t know _what_ he was apologizing _for_. He turned, shuffling slowly after Owlman.

“Yes, sir.”

Tim felt a twinge in his soul. _Go after them, go after them!_ But he knew it would be futile. Just like it had always been.

Tim looked up through his lashes, at the silent gallery watching him. He sighed, stood and sullenly turned back towards the door.

_No more rescue attempts._

He went home empty-handed. For the final time.

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Talon!Damian stories](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/search/talon%21damian)   
> 


End file.
